


Welcome Leon

by tveckling



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Resident Evil 2 Remake, Zombies, just pure angst heh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18791977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: He looks away, not willing to dwell on what was his, whatshouldhave been his.He wishes he wasn't there.He wishes he'd come earlier.





	Welcome Leon

_"Leon Kennedy? You're_ **_late_** _."_

 _Already before he turns Leon's flinching, because that tone all too clearly told him, in no uncertain terms, that he's in trouble. And he sees the grim look on the older man's face, an unimpressed glare making his face hard. Leon carefully doesn't look at the receptionist—not even bothering to hide a smile, and doesn't that make him feel just_ **_great_** _—and rubs his neck. "I am so very sorry, sir. It was- I had an argument last night, and_ **_I swear I'm not like this_** _, it was a- it hit me hard, and I managed to sleep through the alarm I'd set, and I am_ **_so sorry_** _. I know being late on the first day is extremely bad, but I promi-"_

_"Save your apologies and excuses." The dark skinned man shakes his head over crossed arms—and, boy, does Leon feel worse with every passing second. "I don't care about them."_

_"Of course. My apologies, sir," Leon murmurs, lowering his gaze to the floor because this feels too much like being reprimanded by his dad—one of those few times that happened, before both his parents stopped paying any sort of attention to him._

_"Lieutenant. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh."_

_"Sorry, Lieutenant."_

_The man was silent for a moment, before Leon could see his shoes move. "Follow me, rookie. The main hall's not the place for this."_

_Of course the Lieutenant will chew him out, out of sight from the rest of the station and the civilians milling around. Leon was prepared for that as he drove into the city, as he walked into the station. It doesn't make him feel better, knowing, but he grits his teeth and schools his face, following his superior officer. He knows he's in the wrong and that he fucked up, big time. All he can do is suck it up and prove to his new coworkers that this behavior is_ **_not_ ** _the real him._

_But still he feels dread fill his stomach as Marvin stops by a door, raising an expectant eyebrow at him. In response Leon hurries his steps, willing his shoulders to relax. Marvin nods once, knocking quickly on the door—and why would he do that, is someone waiting behind the door? Are more people going to yell at him?—and then opens it, motioning for Leon to move forward._

_Leon takes a breath, and does._

_The light in the main hall is bright and strong, and he takes a couple steps into the room before he realizes it's dark. The lights must be turned off_ — _but_ **_why_** _?_ **_What_ ** _is going on here?_

_There's no time for his eyes to get used to the darkness, not enough time for the alarm inside his head to start rising, before he hears Marvin step in behind him and-_

_The lights turn on, and Leon just about jumps out of his skin as a loud cheer immediately goes up._

_"Welcome!"_

_Leon doesn't realize he'd sprung back in shock until he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders, catching him and preventing him from backing away even further. Marvin, his mind supplies helpfully, and he does recognize the voice laughing jovially behind his back even if it takes a second to connect it to the harsh voice he heard before. In front of him confetti of various kinds drift through the air, but after blinking a couple times he manages to focus on the uniformed people standing beside the stairs, smiling up at him._

_"Don't look so alarmed, kiddo, no one's going to actually shoot you. Except maybe to cover you with more confetti, I guess. Be glad Edward didn't get his will, or you'd be covered in glitter right about now."_

_Leon looks at Marvin, and for a moment he's taken aback to see a quirked smile on the man's face_ — _the severeness completely gone, giving his features a far more soft look. "I'm- I'm not in trouble?" Leon asks slowly, still trying to decipher exactly what's going on and to what degree he should be nervous._

_Marvin purses his lips, looking thoughtfully at Leon. "It's not a good show to be this late on one's first day, I'll be honest. But I've read the reports from your teachers, and I saw your face back in the hall. I believe you don't intend to make a habit of it?"_

_"No, sir!"_

_Again with the quirked smile. "Then you're not in trouble, no."_

_"Are you done harassing the new kid already?" Leon almost jumps as his head swivels around to see a man hanging off the side of the railing. His reaction only makes the man's grin widen, and he winks. "Come on, we have a party to get to!"_

_Marvin chuckles and pushes lightly at Leon's shoulders. "Scott's right. These hooligans have been waiting all day for this; to keep you from them any longer would be dangerous."_

_The grinning man swings over the railing in one enviously smooth movement and drapes an arm over Leon's shoulders, leading him down the stairs, all the while gesticulating as he speaks. "Welcome, newbie, to the best office in the goddamn state. You did a good job picking us, and that shows that you have a fine, fine sense of taste. I just know you and I will be good friends."_

_The lone woman leans in between them, pushing the man aside, and waves her empty confetti cannon in Leon's face. "Don't let him talk too much, rookie, or he'll pull the worst pranks on you. The more you focus on the bullshit he says, the less you notice what he's actually doing."_

_"Oh, like you're an angel, Rita. We all remember the break room incident."_

_To the sound of laughter and cheers the woman raises a firm middle finger, still smiling at Leon. "Like I said. Bullshit."_

_"Oh… okay?"_

_"Man, you guys are the worst. Look at the kid, he's terrified—horrified!—and I don't blame him one bit. Come over here- Rita, go away, go mess with George since you two love each other so much- come here, kiddo."_

_Leon silently lets himself be transferred to the grip of a new person, too unsure to protest the 'terrified' comment. He might be confused, but he's figuring out that it's a surprise welcome party of some sort. He's not_ **_scared_** _._

_"Here, look over here. We've prepared a very special thing for you, kid."_

_The man is also the gesturing kind, and in the process of avoiding being slapped in the face Leon finally catches sight of the decorations; seeing the words 'WELCOME LEON' hang from the ceiling, surrounded by long colorful stripes of confetti, warms his chest. A small smile sneaks onto his face, and he doesn't even try to remove it. All he can think is how he wishes he hadn't let these people wait for so long—it's hard to know who's been looking forward to his first day more, him or them._

_Distracted by the decorations and the fuzzy feeling warming him Leon doesn't see where they're heading until he stands in front of what must be the goal._

_"Voila! Your very own desk," the man says with a brandish._

_"It's… locked." The tree looks nice, though, and the thought of having_ **_his own desk_ ** _makes his chest warm even more. But, still. It is locked._

_"Observant, aren't you." The man grins and pats his shoulder._

_"Perhaps this will make matters a little clearer." Turning his head reveals the Lieutenant, smirking as he holds out a note. "As the highest ranking officer here it is my duty and pleasure to give you this."_

_Leon accepts the note with only some confusion—it feels like that threshold's been reached for one day—and reads it. 'Rookie's first assignment.' When he finishes reading he almost wants to laugh, and without noticing his smile's grown wider. Martin's crooked smile is back when he looks up._

_"Got any questions?"_

_"No, sir. The instructions are clear enough." He can't help answering that smile, not with the rest of the office mulling close with equally wide grins, not with the decorations, not with this warmth blossoming in his chest._

_The moment he turns around fully the scene turns into the portrayal of a dam bursting, all the officers—his_ **_coworkers_** _, because he's one_ **_too_** _—rushing towards him as one, quickly surrounding him. They all start talking, more than one at a time, some pushing others out of the way or raising their voice to be heard the best, making it all a very chaotic discordance, surely headache inducing if kept going for any longer period of time. Leon feels like his smile's going to break his face._

_"Leon, kiddo, you're gonna have-"_

_"I'm Rita Phillips, but just call me-"_

_"Name's Neil, you can always come to me-"_

_"-Rita, okay? I'll beat Scott up-"_

_"I'm Scott."_

_"-so much fun here, I promise you-"_

_"-if you need any advice."_

_"David Ford. Nice to meet you."_

_"-if he bothers you, so just let me know, okay?"_

_"Rita's bothering you, isn't she?"_

_"-just stick to my lead and ignore the others-"_

_"Scott, shut up."_

_"-because otherwise you'll never get-"_

_"My name's not Scott."_

_"-anything done, trust me."_

_"Fine. Asshole, idiot, schmuck, troll. Pick one."_

_"I wouldn't want to take any of your names."_

_"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself-"_

_"Shut_ **_up_** _, Scott."_

_"My name's not Scott. I'm Miller."_

_"-I'm Elliot. Nice to meet you, Leon."_

_"His name's George Scott."_

_"Joykiller."_

_"_ **_Guys._ ** _"_

_Everyone falls silent as Marvin's voice cuts through the air. No one meets his eyes as he shakes his head. Amazingly enough Leon's still smiling, and he looks at each of the people, reaching out a hand for a handshake as he addresses each of them._

_"Hello, Elliot. Thank you, Neil, I'll remember that. Nice to meet you, David. I'll remember to tell you if I'm being bothered, Rita. And, Scott…. George, was it? The note said you would be the one least likely to actually tell me your name."_

_George scowls at Rita. "Taking all the fun out of things, I swear."_

_Marvin laughs and shakes his head. "Can't believe you actually caught all of that… good job, kid."_

_"Thank you, Marvin."_

_Perhaps Leon shouldn't feel as accomplished as he does when the Lieutenant grins at him, giving him a quick thumbs up. But try as he might—which, admittedly isn't very hard—he can't. Instead he turns back to his desk and leans down, fiddling with one of the locks. He doesn't even need to see to know that the others are gathered behind him._

_A handful of seconds, a couple tries, and then the lock opens with a click. A few 'whoo!' sounds behind his back, and he tries not to giggle as he moves to the second lock. This time, when he lock clicks open, there's a suspenseful silence—until he straightens and lifts the roll top. Then loud cheering breaks out, though this time he doesn't even flinch as he looks upon the tidy desk._

_"He passed! Time for_ **_booze_** _!"_

_"Scott, don't be stupid. He might actually believe you."_

_"It's not alcohol, it's just soda. We're all still working, after all."_

_"You're all party poopers. In_ **_my_ ** _mind it's booze."_

_"Yeah, yeah."_

_They've already gotten him a nameplate. 'Leon S. Kennedy,' in elegant golden letters. Tuning out the talking around him Leon picks it up, stroking a finger along the raised letters, feeling something prick at the back of his eyes._

_"I knew you could do it." The hand clapped to his shoulder only makes him look up with a bright smile, easily answered by Marvin. "Good job, rookie. You're now officially a part of the team. Now, come on, let's go. We've got drinks and snacks and cake for you. Gotta get to them before those vultures devour it all."_

 

Marvin's sitting on the sofa Leon left him on, and for a hundredth of a heartbeat Leon's hit by a wave of relief. But then he notices, sees the truth. The body's slumped over, and too still. Unnaturally still.

Until it isn't.

With jerking movements Marvin comes to life—or, what seems to Leon as a cruel mimicry of life. Because the groaning that comes from Marvin's lips, the way those eyes look at him, the way he moves—none of that is _alive_. No _living_ person would look or sound or move like that. No living person would have a half rotten face.

"Marvin… aw, _no_."

The thing that used to be his mentor, for however short a period, takes a step towards him. And another. And another.

He can't do this. He can't fight, can't _kill_ Marvin. He can't kill _Marvin_.

"Damnit!"

Gritting his teeth he turns and runs, ignoring the groaning behind him. Ignoring the way tears burn behind his eyes. He doesn't think, just runs straight through the nearest door and closes it quickly, taking another moment to curse everything that had led to his moment.

There's a groan—not from behind a closed door—and his eyes fly open. The west room. And slowly turning towards him, with the same dead eyes as those of Marvin's, is a uniformed man. Or, rather, what had once been a man. The gaping mouth, the blood covering him, the rot shows that whatever it is now, it's _not_ a man. Not a human.

Fuck, he'd forgotten he hadn't killed this zombie.

"Damnit, damnit, _damnit_."

There's nothing to do about it. Out in the hall behind his back is Marvin, and Leon _cannot_ go there. So, forward it is. Past the zombie slowly staring in his direction. Past where it's standing by the exit. But it's fine, he just needs to be quick. He doesn't have many bullets, not enough to spare if he can make do without. There's simply nothing else to do.

He takes a breath, steels himself, and runs.

Halfway through the office the zombie groans again, jerking more fully towards him, reaching up its arms. Leon keeps running. The zombie takes a step forward, reaching for him. Leon swerves to the side, thinking he'll easily avoid it—but he forgets the surprising speed and agility the dead sometimes show.

He doesn't see it, but he _feels_ when the zombie's hands grab him, and there's a shout leaving his mouth even as he falls, pushed down by the sudden weight on his back. There's the smell of death and decay and _rot_ , and hands clawing at his clothes, and groaning right by his ear. Adrenaline and panic fill his veins, and the moment he hits the floor, the moment he stops falling, he thrusts his elbow back, jams it into the zombie's chest. And he's rewarded with a displeased half-scream as the zombie tears back, enough for him to roll around, get on his back instead, enough for him to grab the knife in his belt. And he sees the rotting face, the dead eyes, the hands like claws already reaching for him. And he lunges up, lunges forward, stabbing the knife into the zombie's chest.

And he tears it out, then stabs down again, and again, and again. Over and over, mindlessly, getting blood and gore and filth staining even more of his skin. The knife's getting destroyed, a little bit with every stab, he knows that. But he doesn't stop, can't make himself stop. Not until the groaning stops and the clawing hands have fallen motionless to the floor. Not until the zombie stops moving for good.

Breathing hard Leon tries to get to his feet, but finds his legs unable to support him as he falls down again, slamming his shoulder into something hard. When he looks up, rubbing the aching part with a grimace, his heart twists painfully. His desk. It's still open, and he can see the top of the nameplate proclaiming his own name. 'Leon S. Kennedy,' in elegant golden letters.

He looks away, not willing to dwell on what was his, what _should_ have been his, but instead his eyes catch on the decorations hanging from the ceiling above the gathering of desks. And his heart twists again, his face shifting into a sneering glare.

'WELCOME LEON.' In big, colorful, _cheerful_ letters. It's like it's mocking him. Welcome? Welcome to _what_? White hot anger fills him, and he just barely manages to push down the impulse to destroy everything in sight. Welcome to hell, welcome to your worst nightmare, welcome to a slow torment before you give in and die.

There's nothing, he's discovered, that he hates more than those cheerful letters.  ****  
** **

'WELCOME LEON.'

He wishes he wasn't there.

He wishes he'd come earlier. ** **  
****

A groaning and a bang brings him from his thoughts, and he stares at the door to the main hall. A couple seconds pass, then another bang, and Leon can almost see the door shake. He recognizes that groaning—he doesn't _want_ to, but he does. _Marvin_. ****  
** **

There's no time to think, no time to dwell, no time to hate. There's never any time, and he wishes he could feel bitter about that. But he doesn't have time, or the effort and energy, to spare. He picks himself up, gets up to his feet, and turns back to where he'd been going. ****  
** **

Another bang. ****  
** **

Leon grits his teeth and moves forward, running out of the door further into hell, leaving Marvin and the main hall behind him.


End file.
